


But I Really Need to Have You by My Side

by marnersmiles



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming Out, Daryl Dixon deserves happiness and I am going to give it to him dammit, Happy Ending, I guess???, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Presumed character death, Prison, Secret Relationship, the group doesn't know they're married
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-20 23:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16147481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marnersmiles/pseuds/marnersmiles
Summary: Before the world ended and all hell broke loose, Daryl was happy. Well, as happy as an ex-felon who could barely hold down a job could be. He had a man who loved him, and that was enough to make up for the crap hand life had dealt him.After the world ended and all hell broke loose, Daryl was lost, left to wander a broken world without the one man who brought him happiness.That is, of course, until a routine supply run leads Daryl back to Paul.Or: snapshots of Daryl and Paul’s lives before and after the world ended.





	1. Before

_Before_

Their first meeting is about as far from a meet cute as it gets. Daryl wishes he could say that their eyes locked from across the room, and he just _knew_ that Paul was the one, or that they both reached for the same cup of coffee at the same time and sparks went flying. He wishes he could say those things, but he is Daryl Dixon, and nice, _romantic_ things don’t happen to him. No, there was no fairytale love at first sight, no moment of ‘ _ah-ha, I’ve found him, he’s the one._ ’ The reality of their first meeting couldn’t be farther from a fairytale, and is so much more fucked up than any love story has a right to be.

It starts like this:

Officer Rodriguez shoves at Daryl’s shoulder, making him lurch forward as he walks into the police station. He slams into Merle’s back, causing them both to stumble, but not fall. Daryl grunts, but doesn’t retaliate; he’s in enough trouble as it is, what with the _fucking drug charges_ he’s facing thanks to Merle, he doesn’t need to go and make it worse by cussing out a cop, or worse, punching one. Merle, however, being the complete hothead that he is, doesn’t seem to share this mindset.

As soon as he’s recomposed himself, Merle lashes out, turning around and shouting, “Think you can put your hands on my brother, ya good fer nothin’ pig?” Two cuffed hands reach out and push Daryl aside—shoving Daryl around seems to be okay as long as _he’s_ the one doing it, apparently—and then Merle is getting right up in Rodriguez’s face, spewing some racist bullshit. It goes from bad to worse real quick: the officer reacts almost instantaneously, hand immediately going for the baton strapped to his waist before Merle can even lift his hands to strike. Rodriguez brings the baton down in three quick blows against Merle’s knees. Merle hits the ground hard, groaning all the while.

And Daryl, well, Daryl knows he shouldn’t get involved, knows it’s going to end badly for him, but he’s a Dixon, and Dixons stick up for their own. He’d die before he let some cop get away with hurting his brother, no matter how much the dumbass deserved it.

Daryl runs at Rodriguez, aiming his shoulder at Rodriguez’s stomach, landing a perfect hit that sends them careening to the floor. Before Rodriguez has a chance to recover, Daryl brings both of his cuffed hands down on the man’s face. The cuffs hinder his ability to punch properly, but smashing them down against Rodriguez’s nose is just as, if not more, effective. Blood gushes out and covers Daryl’s hands as he once again slams them into the same place he’d just hit.

Rodriguez scrambles, tries to get up, but Daryl is planted firmly on top of him, knees on either side of his body, trapping his arms in place. Rodriguez doesn’t let that stop him, and he uses what little mobility he has to slam his fists against Daryl’s thighs. It doesn’t do much to hinder Daryl, who just continues attacking the officer.

“You’re one dumb sumbitch,” Daryl growls, "fer messin' with a Dixon."

He lift his hands again, fully intent on bloodying up the nice officer’s face as much as possible, but he’s yanked away before he gets the chance to strike again. He’s pulled up and away from Rodriguez, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and stomach. He kicks his leg backwards. His boot connects with a leg, hard, and the person holding him loosens his grip just the slightest amount. Daryl pulls out of the hold and turns, hits the cop in the face.

Daryl quickly scans the room. There’s a full on brawl happening in the station, with not only him fighting the officers, but other people as well. It seems that all of the crooks in the station joined in on the fight, eager to spill pig blood, to get one in on the guys who arrested them. He would enjoy it more if he didn’t know how absolutely fucked he is once it’s all over.

Someone shoves into him from behind, grabs ahold of his arms and holds him in place. He struggles against it, kicks his legs back, but it doesn’t deter the man holding him. The more Daryl struggles, the tighter the grip gets.

“Just when I think a Dixon can’t get any stupider, you go and prove me wrong,” the cop hisses in Daryl’s ear. “Can’t wait to see you locked up, trapped in a cage where you—”

The talking stops abruptly, and the hold on him goes slack, hands dropping away from Daryl’s arms. Daryl turns around, confused, and what he sees only serves to confuse him more. Standing there grinning is a man who looks like the damn Savior himself, a baton in his hand and a cop’s body at his feet.

Daryl barely has time to think “ _what the fuck_ ” before he himself is struck with a baton in the knees. His body pitches forwards, first his knees hitting the ground, then his upper body as he is pushed down. His head smacks off the ground, causing lightning quick flashes of pain to spread through his skull. A loud groan escapes his lips, and all of the fight leaves his body. He presses his face against the cool tile, reveling in the relief it brings him. A booted foot presses against his back, holding him into place.

He can do nothing but watch as the man who helped him is put down in a similar fashion. He locks eyes with the long haired man, staring straight at him until it becomes uncomfortable and he has to look away. He glances around the rest of the station, surprised to see that the chaos that reigned just moments ago is over.

He’s hoisted up by the man who knocked him down, and is led to a holding cell near the back of the station. It’s nearly packed to the brim with people, all of them sporting nasty looking cuts and bruises from their own fights. Some have blood gushing out of their noses, others have split lips that have tripled in size and are steadily leaking blood, but the cops don’t seem to be in a rush to help them.

The cop shoves him towards a bench bolted to the back wall of the cell, the only remaining sitting space available in the whole cell. The four men already occupying the bench glare at Daryl as he’s forced by the cop to sit down.

“Sit. Don’t fucking move,” the officer says, his hand poised on the baton attached to his hip, “unless you want me to use this on you again.”

Daryl bangs his head against the stone wall of the cell, only to instantly regret it, as it sends a jolt of pain throughout his entire body. He closes his eyes, idly wondering where Merle is—if he’s in this cell, or is being held in another. He didn’t see him as he was being led back.

He lets his mind wander to how absolutely fucked he is. He was already going down for possession of a controlled substance, there was no doubt about that—even though it wasn’t even his fucking meth, his asshole brother had just stored it in the saddlebag on Daryl’s bike—but now he’s going to be facing aggravated battery charges as well. Not for the first time in his life, Daryl curses his piece of shit older brother.

A body pressing close to his startles him out of his thoughts, and he opens his eyes, only to find himself face to face with the man from before. The guy is smiling again, and he lifts his now cuffed hands in something that could be considered a wave.

“‘M Daryl,” he mumbles. Then, “Thanks. For, y’know. Helpin’.”

“Nice to meet you, Daryl,” the long-haired man says, still smiling. “I’m Paul, but you can call me Jesus.”


	2. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard disclaimer: Some of the stuff from this chapter came from the show (6x10, specifically). I take no credit for those ideas. I did change a lot of stuff, though.

_ After  _

The thing is, when Denise asks Daryl to bring home soda as a surprise for Tara, he gets it. He understands what it’s like to want to do something special for someone you love, even if that something special is something as dumb as giving them a can of soda that they may or may not even like. He understands that desire to bring a smile to their face. And that’s why he finds himself agreeing to keep an eye out for it, may even go out of his way to find it for her. Because if he can’t do that for the man he loves anymore, he’s damn well going to make sure the others are able to bring that joy to someone’s life while they still can. He knows he would give anything to be able to give Paul a stupid can of soda just one more time. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when Rick walks up beside him and says, “The car’s all packed and ready to go.”

Daryl grunts in response and begins walking towards the front gate, where he knows the car is waiting. Rick falls into step with him.

“I figure we can go out further today, check out some towns we haven’t hit yet.” He glances at Daryl, as if waiting for confirmation. Daryl nods. “Might even find some people today.”

Daryl doesn’t understand Rick’s insistence on finding new people to bring to the community. The way he sees it, new people are dangerous. How has the man not learned from the past? From the Governor? Terminus? Every time they run into someone new, shit goes down. He’s happy with the people, with the community, they’ve got. He doesn’t say this to Rick. Instead, he gets in the car, listens to Eugene ramble about something or another that Daryl doesn’t really understand, and then they’re off. 

Rick keeps talking about about his hopes for finding people, and it’s bad, makes Daryl pissed that Rick can’t  _ learn  _ from the past, but it’s not as bad as when Rick decisively puts the CD into the CD player, ignoring Daryl’s plea, a small smile on his face as he does so. 

“Yer an asshole,” Daryl grumbles as the song starts to play. Rick’s smile grows and he snaps his fingers along to the song, turns the radio up even louder.

“Draws ‘em away from home!” he yells over the music, a clear excuse. Daryl knows the asshole just likes to annoy him. 

“A real asshole!” Daryl turns in his seat and glares at Rick, making sure his displeasure is clear. 

Rick ignores him in favor of singing along with the song, though it’s more like shouting along than actual singing. He’s ridiculous, making exaggerated movements in his seat, something that could maybe be considered dancing. He’s having fun, though, that much is clear, even if it is at Daryl’s expense, and Daryl can’t be mad at that. 

“Jackass.” It’s said without malice, comes out more fond than anything. He’s smiling now, laughing at Rick’s antics, and Rick is smiling back at him. Daryl joins in on the singing, screaming along at the top of his lungs. He still hates the stupid fucking song, and he’s still a little annoyed that Rick gets such a kick out of pissing him off, but he will admit that it feels good to let loose every once in a while. He’s always wound up so tight, can’t bring himself to have fun after losing so many people. 

The song ends and Rick turns the radio down as another begins to play. “I got a good feeling about today, Daryl. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it in my bones. Something’s gonna go our way for once.”

Daryl doesn’t know how much he believes in gut feelings, doesn’t know how much stock can be put into something as silly as a feeling, but he nods along to appease Rick. 

 

* * *

 

When they open the garage and reveal a truck packed wall to wall with supplies, Daryl decides right then and there that he’s never going to ignore Rick’s ‘feelings’ again because the bastard was right, he was fucking  _ right. _ Something’s finally going their way, just like Rick said. Daryl almost can’t believe it. 

Rick lets out a small whoop when he sees what’s inside. “I _told_ ya, man. Knew somethin’ good was gonna happen today.”

Daryl hops into the back of the truck and begins digging around through the masses of stuff. Everything they need is there: food, toiletries, clothes. He can even see some comics poking out through the pile near the back. He points them out to Rick.

“Think Carl would like those?” 

Rick looks to where he’s pointing and smiles when he sees what it is. “Kid’s gonna go nuts for ‘em.”

Daryl leaps out of the back of the truck and pulls down the door. “Think we can get this thing started? Who know how long it’s been sittin’ here.”

The two walk to the front of the truck. Rick opens the front door, goes to press the button to pop the hood but stops short. His hand changes course, instead going for the visor. He pulls it down and a set of keys fall out. 

“It really is our lucky day.” He grins. “What kind of moron leaves the keys to a truck full of supplies  _ in  _ the truck?”

He puts the key in the ignition and turns. It makes a grumbling sound for a few moments before finally starting. Rick whoops again. 

“Think I saw a vending machine out front. Gonna check it out while you get this out of here.” Rick nods, and Daryk makes his way back to the front of the garage.

The vending machine is knocked over on its front, and Daryl typically wouldn’t bother with it, especially considering the haul they just found, but he told Denise he’d find those stupid sodas, and what better place to check than a vending machine? He pushes at the side of the machine, desperately trying to lift the damn thing, but it doesn’t budge. It remains in the exact same place, seemingly mocking him.

Rick pulls the truck up and rolls the window down. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before trouble comes.”

“Help me flip this first.”

“All that’s in there is candy and soda. It ain’t important, let’s go.”

“It’s important,” Daryl asserts, leaving no room for argument. Rick sighs but gets out of the truck, a chain in his hand.

Getting the damn chain under the machine is a pain, and Daryl finds himself wondering if it’s really worth it. Then he sighs because it’s  _ for love  _ and he’s a damn sap, so of course it’s worth it. Rick doesn’t seem to share this sentiment, grumbling about “stupid fuckin’ candy” the whole time. Daryl chooses to ignore him. 

It’s easy enough to flip the machine once they’ve got the chain wrapped around it. Rick hops in the truck and drives forward until it finally tips onto its side, revealing a small assortment of candies and sodas. 

Daryl is just leaning down to get the stuff from inside the machine when a body slams into Rick from behind. He’s upright and has his gun out and pointed before he even fully realizes what’s happening. Rick follows suit, gun pointed at the stranger in a matter of seconds. 

Standing in front of them is a man in a trenchcoat, his face hidden by a bandana and long brown hair and a beanie. He immediately raises his hands in the air, the universal sign for “oh shit, don’t shoot me” but Daryl and Rick don’t lower their guns.

Daryl’s about to open his mouth to tell the man to back the hell up, but the stranger speaks before he can.

“Daryl?”

Daryl’s gun slips from his hands, but he pays it no mind as it clatters to the ground. He  _ knows  _ that voice, but it can’t be.  _ It can’t be  _ because he’s  _ dead.  _

_ “He’s dead. He’sdeadhe’sdeadhe’sdead,”  _ runs through Daryl’s mind. 

He stares at the person standing before him, and it  _ has to be him.  _ It’s  _ him.  _

“Paul?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewatched this episode before I wrote this chapter and I didn't think about it when I first watched the episode when it came out, but do you realize how much of a hassle it must have been for them to actually get the chains under that vending machine? They would have had to lift it from both sides and slide the chains under. Really goes to show how much Daryl wanted to get that soda for Denise. He cares so much.
> 
> Edit: The next chapter is taking me a lot longer to write than I thought it would. I'm not sure when it's going to be up. Sorry.


End file.
